Page 20

Story: Her Grace Revisited

Mrs Bennet must have a very warped idea of what beauty is.

In Elizabeth’s opinion, Charlotte was very far from being plain; in fact, she was pretty.

She was not a classic beauty as defined by society; then again, neither was Elizabeth.

She supposed Charlotte was judged wanting because she did not have blonde hair and blue eyes, rather light brown and hazel eyes.

Elizabeth remembered hearing Aunt Hattie a few years ago state that her sister’s idea of beauty was someone who looked just like her own self.

She would not waste her breath speaking about that woman; rather, she decided to address what Charlotte had said about Lady Lucas.

“So you would not have experienced the pain of losing a loved one?”

Charlotte nodded.

“In my short life, I have learnt that you cannot cut yourself off from all pain, and besides, I would rather love and lose my love, than not love at all.”

“I think the same way,” Charlotte agreed. “I know my mother is just sad because she has seen me hurting so very much.”

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

Bennet was prepared for the first meeting with his daughters being rather awkward.

It was not only the fact they had lived the whole of their lives, save the two years with the tenants, away from Longbourn; it was that he had never seen any of them.

It had been his choice, and he was aware he would be asked some uncomfortable questions, especially if his daughters were as intelligent as it seemed.

Miss Millar, even though she was related to his daughters by blood, would wait and only be introduced if Elizabeth and Mary agreed to meet her.

At the hour Gardiner’s note had listed for them to arrive, Bennet had taken himself from his study and exited the house. He waited on the step in front of the front door, and stood there until the coach came to a halt opposite the entrance to Longbourn.

He watched as Gardiner alighted and turned and handed out a lady Bennet assumed was Gardiner’s wife.

Next, he handed out a young lady. Bennet had not been prepared to see such a faithful copy of his late mother standing before him.

He gasped when he saw her. Everything was the same: her slight size, the eyes, and the hair colour.

Regardless of his banished wife’s assertion, she was a beauty.

When he gasped, Bennet had not missed the way the young lady arched her eyebrow, just like his mother would do when she was asking a question.

Gardiner next handed out another young lady. She was taller than the first and looked to be a mix of his late mother and the fool of a wife safely ensconced in her cottage.

He had not thought of it before, but in a way, Fanny Gardiner Millar Bennet being sent to a cottage was in fact poetic justice.

She had sent both of these daughters before him to the cottages.

He found his voice as the one girl looked at him questioningly still, and the other had much doubt in her eyes.

“May I suggest we adjourn to the drawing room where we may make the introductions?” Bennet managed.

Gardiner looked at the three women with him, and after nods from all three, he nodded as well. Bennet led the way.

When the drawing room door had been closed, Gardiner looked at Bennet with a look which showed a modicum of pity.

“It is sad it is necessary, but this is your eldest daughter, Elizabeth Rose Bennet, and your next younger child, Mary Eloise Bennet. Lizzy and Mary, your birth father , Thomas Bennet. Bennet, my wife, Madeline; Maddie, the master of this estate,” he drawled.

“ It is good to meet you, ” Bennet said in Greek.

“ I do not yet know if it is good to know you ,” Elizabeth replied flawlessly in the same language.

Bennet’s eyebrows shot up. It seemed that rather than exaggerate her abilities, they had been understated. “ I assume you speak Latin as well? ” he asked in that tongue.

“ I do, ” Elizabeth responded in Latin, “I am also fluent in French, German, Italian, Portuguese, Russian, and Spanish .” Each language Elizabeth mentioned was said using the tongue she mentioned.

“My sister is fluent in five languages, Latin being one of them.” Elizabeth paused and looked directly at the man before her.

“Why, now that I am fifteen and Mary thirteen, are you suddenly interested in seeing us when you have made no effort until now?”

“Not only do you look just like your late grandmother, but you have her outspoken nature as well.” Bennet stated, almost wistfully.

“I will not sport with your intelligence. I could have countermanded my wife’s orders when she sent first you,” Bennet looked at Elizabeth, “and then you,” he looked at Mary, “out of this house.”

“Why did you not do that?” Mary demanded.

“I used to belong to a school of thought which held that women did not have the capacity for learning, logical thought, and reasoning.

Before my father and brother were lost, I never imagined marrying and having children of my own.

I married the first woman who threw herself at me because I needed a son to break the entail to the male line.

Hence, when Mrs Bennet had daughter after daughter, with my belief system in place, I never challenged her decisions.

“Some months back she told me about you and your intelligence, and rather than be a negative, like she intended, I made my enquiries and discovered what she had said was held true by many in the area. Yes, I hoped that your abilities in estate management would benefit me, but more than that, I wanted to see your abilities from up close. Never in all of my years of study have I met one who can read things once and then have perfect recall. I have heard about such people, but until now I never met one. I was an unbeaten chess champion at Cambridge, so the chance of playing against someone as good as, or better, than myself was thrilling to me.” Bennet ceased his speech and watched his two daughters.

“Bennet, I know my sister is no longer resident in this house,” Gardiner interjected while his wards thought about what their father had said. “Why now, more than nine years after Lydia was born?”

“You made me promise that if Elizabeth and Mary were to call here, my wife would not be a threat to them,” Bennet explained.

Gardiner allowed it was so.

“When I spoke to her, it confirmed my suspicions that she would not be able to control herself and would have said or done something abusive verbally or physically, or both, in order to hurt the girls, especially Lizzy. I knew the only option was to remove Fanny from this house.”

“And Miss Millar? She has been raised to hate my nieces. Over the years, Hattie and others have heard her disparaging the sisters she has never met,” Gardiner stated.

“I believe she is genuine in her contrition and determination to make amends to those she has wronged over the years. She has begun to humble herself before the denizens of Meryton,” Bennet revealed.

“I have made many errors of judgment in my life, but this is not one of them. She is well aware that one misstep will find her in the same cottage as her mother.”

“I assume you want my help to increase the yields of the estate,” Elizabeth verified.

Bennet agreed.

“Have you read Charles Townsend’s treatise on four-field crop rotation, and the use of turnips in fields which need a rest?”

“No, I do not have that publication,” Bennet owned.

“It says…” Using her powers of recall, Elizabeth recited the salient sections from the pamphlet.

Bennet’s mouth hung open. His daughter was reciting the words as if reading them off the pages in front of her.

It was true; his daughter had instant recall.

It seemed she was far more intelligent than most men, including himself.

Now if he could challenge her to chess before this first meeting was closed.

Elizabeth saw the way Mr Bennet’s eyes were darting towards the chess set in the one corner. She looked to Uncle Edward, who, after checking with his wife, nodded his permission.

“Would you like to try and beat me across the chessboard?” Elizabeth goaded.

“I would. Let us see if that confidence is well placed.” They took seats across the board from one another; Bennet picked up a pawn of each colour, mixed them behind his back before offering Elizabeth his fists closed over the pieces. She selected white.

It was over in ten minutes. Bennet could not remember being the recipient of such a drubbing like the one his oldest daughter delivered.

If that was not bad enough, Mary played him next.

This game neared a half hour, but in the end he had to tip his king.

The last time he had been beaten at all, never mind so soundly, had been before he went to Eton.

His daughters agreed to return the next day for longer, and they would meet their half-sister.

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